*Please read and comment your thoughts. I would also love any other title ideas.
Beads of sweat roll down my face and on to the worn black cotton of my uniform, as I glance longingly at my purple water bottle just a few feet away. My parched throat has almost convinced me to stop, to throw away my hard work, and fling my fatigued body towards hydration, but I don't. Instead I take a deep breath and remember why against all logical reasoning I am dripping in sweat on a Saturday afternoon while my friends bask in the unencumbered glory of summertime.
I started training in the Korean martial art of Kuk Sool Won the year I turned ten, at the demands of my father. As a self proclaimed girly-girl the idea of running around with a bunch of boys kicking things was not one I found appealing, but unsurprisingly the protective father won out against the melodramatic fifth grader. As the years past I realized that I possessed a natural affinity for martial arts, and by the end of my freshman year I was a third of the way through the grueling twelve-test process required to get my black belt. My sophomore year was when everything changed, the thrill of being told how high my kicks were had worn off, leaving behind only indolence, and after repeatedly telling myself, and my disappointed parents, that I didn't have the time to continue with Kuk Sool Won, I quit.
A year past, and I often thought about the shiny medals packed away in boxes, the choreographed sequences of punches and kicks that I could not forget, and the fact that I never reached my goal of becoming a black belt. My regret gnawed away at my subconscious slowly picking apart my false justifications for giving up on my goal until there was nothing left to do but go back and finish what I started.
When I returned to Kuk Sool Won I was a totally different person, because this time I was there for me. I substituted the ego of my childhood for the work ethic of the adult I was becoming, and opened my mind to all that Kuk Sool Won could teach me.
Of all these lessons by far the most important thing that Kuk Sool Won has taught me is what it means to persevere. Looking back now, I don't see taking a year off from Kuk Sool Won as a mistake, but as a much needed reminder that any goal worth achieving requires a massive amount of hard work and dedication, and even more importantly taking a year off helped me to realize that I truly have a passion for Kuk Sool Won.
It is this passion that drives me through my thirst to finish my tenth black belt test with a smile, knowing that in a few months I will finally receive that long sought after piece of black cloth that will mean that all my hard-work has finally paid off.
Beads of sweat roll down my face and on to the worn black cotton of my uniform, as I glance longingly at my purple water bottle just a few feet away. My parched throat has almost convinced me to stop, to throw away my hard work, and fling my fatigued body towards hydration, but I don't. Instead I take a deep breath and remember why against all logical reasoning I am dripping in sweat on a Saturday afternoon while my friends bask in the unencumbered glory of summertime.
I started training in the Korean martial art of Kuk Sool Won the year I turned ten, at the demands of my father. As a self proclaimed girly-girl the idea of running around with a bunch of boys kicking things was not one I found appealing, but unsurprisingly the protective father won out against the melodramatic fifth grader. As the years past I realized that I possessed a natural affinity for martial arts, and by the end of my freshman year I was a third of the way through the grueling twelve-test process required to get my black belt. My sophomore year was when everything changed, the thrill of being told how high my kicks were had worn off, leaving behind only indolence, and after repeatedly telling myself, and my disappointed parents, that I didn't have the time to continue with Kuk Sool Won, I quit.
A year past, and I often thought about the shiny medals packed away in boxes, the choreographed sequences of punches and kicks that I could not forget, and the fact that I never reached my goal of becoming a black belt. My regret gnawed away at my subconscious slowly picking apart my false justifications for giving up on my goal until there was nothing left to do but go back and finish what I started.
When I returned to Kuk Sool Won I was a totally different person, because this time I was there for me. I substituted the ego of my childhood for the work ethic of the adult I was becoming, and opened my mind to all that Kuk Sool Won could teach me.
Of all these lessons by far the most important thing that Kuk Sool Won has taught me is what it means to persevere. Looking back now, I don't see taking a year off from Kuk Sool Won as a mistake, but as a much needed reminder that any goal worth achieving requires a massive amount of hard work and dedication, and even more importantly taking a year off helped me to realize that I truly have a passion for Kuk Sool Won.
It is this passion that drives me through my thirst to finish my tenth black belt test with a smile, knowing that in a few months I will finally receive that long sought after piece of black cloth that will mean that all my hard-work has finally paid off.
